


A Battlefield

by OutRAGme_985



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Character Death, Gender or Sex Swap, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutRAGme_985/pseuds/OutRAGme_985
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story for mothers and fathers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why had no one told me...

Oropher awoke to the sound of a shrill cry coming from the bedroom next to his. He shook his head to clear away the dreams and rolled himself out of the nest of his blankets. He padded across the cool carpeting and made his way into the smaller room, squinting his eyes slightly at the intrusion of the pale purple lighting that bounced off of the walls. He reached the far corner, the source of the distress, and leaned his upper body over the black wooden frame of the crib. His hands lifted the tiny baby boy and cradled him softly against his chest.

“Sshhh. Hush, baby, aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” His voice came out groggier than he expected, deeper than it should have been. But then again, nothing happens as expected before the sun rises.

The tiny boy kicked his legs out and wailed, reaching small hands up to fist the long, loose hair hanging around Oropher’s shoulders. He cursed himself for not putting his hair up before reaching for her, but gritted his teeth and let him pull and yank on the silvery white strands.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Are you lonely, _pen tithen_?”

He paced back and forth, rubbing the baby’s back strongly with his hand. His crying began to lessen and he shifted back and forth in Oropher’s arms, his mouth opening and closing aimlessly as pale blue eyes tried to focus on his face in the dim light. He smiled to himself and sat gently down in the dark purple gliding chair that sat opposite the room’s door. He grabbed a pillow from the floor and propped his arm up, allowing himself to rest the tiny child comfortably without his tired muscles giving up. The baby made small babbling noises and the occasional squeak as he settled himself in, gliding the chair back and forth in a soothing motion that threatened to rock him to sleep.

As his consciousness began to slip away, he was pulled back to reality with a loud squeal that made his eardrums burn.

“Oh no no no, it’s okay sweetheart! I’m here, I’m here!” He sat upright and pulled the baby closer to his body, cooing to him softly and looking down upon his face. His features were chubby and flushed, his eyes such a pale blue that he could hardly believe it. He ran a calloused hand over his pale, golden hair, never used to how soft it really was. The baby made a funny awkward smile at him, and his heart clenched.

“Awe, baby. What a nice smile. You smile so pretty, I love it when you smile for me. Do you like my smile too, baby?” Oropher smiled warmly at him, his teeth showing while a tiny hand gripped his finger tightly. Such delicate, little fingers for a tiny baby. They were long, longer than the few other children he had known before the birth.

“You’ve got such a good strong grip!” He wriggled his finger, eliciting a happy giggle from the little boy as he tried to shove the big finger into his wide open mouth.

His giggle made Oropher’s heart skip a beat. So familiar, bringing back memories like a tidal wave that smacked his heart into the back of his torso. He held him close as he suckled, his rocking growing slower as he felt a well of emotion build up in his chest. He looked down at the baby, amazed at how much his life had changed in the past few months.

“I love it when you laugh. You sound so much like your daddy.” Oropher tore his eyes from the tiny child and focused on the large framed picture of a memory hanging over the baby’s crib. An apparition of day they had first welcomed the little boy into the world. He was wrapped in a small, white blanket, in the arms of a beautiful man dressed all in dark green and red. Tears graced his cheeks, which were mirrored on Oropher’s face now.

“Oh my god, _ion nîn_. I wish you could see him now. See how beautiful he is. He’s... he’s so much like you.”

Oropher looked back to the baby, happy to see him sucking on his fingertip and sleeping peacefully. He rocked for a long time, feeling the peace and silence of the warm room all around him. He was exhausted, wanting to feel the comfort of his bed and his blankets closing around him. Yet he remained. He felt safe in this room; he felt needed and necessary. The tiny life in his arms reminded him, day in and and day out, of his purpose now. As if there was nothing before this child, and there would be nothing else after.

He thought back to day of his birth. That glourious, wonderful, beautiful, terrible day. Full of love, terror, happiness, sadness and pain that he knew he would never, never forget.

No one ever would.


	2. That my body would become a battlefield...

Oropher sat up in bed before he was even out of his dream. He watched the world zoom back into its proper place as he registered the light knocking on his bedroom door. He scooted off the edge of his bed and placed his feet on the cool carpeted floor. He stood and made his way to the door, opening it and peering into the dark blackness of the hallway. He saw his son’s outline, silhouetted softly by the nightlight along the floorboards. 

“It’s time.”

Oropher stared blankly forward. He knew those words meant something... something important. But the words just couldn’t seem to work their way through the fog of his waking mind. He raised his hand to his face and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“What? Time for what?” He mumbled, just barely hearing his son’s soft response.

“The baby.”

“Right, the baby.” He responded, slinking back against his door and yawning. It took a few seconds before it settled in. Images of his bed, crawling back into the covers where suddenly blasted away by the thought of a crying baby. He felt like a cold bucket of water had been poured over his skin. He shot up straighter and felt his lungs run dry.

“The baby! Oh fuck! Oh shit! Fuck, I gotta call, I gotta call...”

“It’s okay, Ada, calm down. I already called Galadriel. She’s on her way.” Thranduil’s voice was calm, oh, so calm in the darkness of the hallway. Oropher felt his hands shaking as he walked towards his only child. He reached forwards and put his hands protectively across Thranduil’s belly, feeling the need to ground himself. Thranduil’s hands covered his own, cool and steady as he pressed down, pushing Oropher’s fingers and palms down against the hardness of his stomach. 

“It... it feels so still.” Oropher whispered, and Thranduil chuckled deeply.

“Yeah, well it’s definitely moving. Trust me on this one.” Oropher rubbed Thranduil’s stomach absently as his son leaned backwards and used his hands to support his lower back. Oropher spoke.

“Okay, so what do you need? Do you need me to get you anything?”

“Ada, calm down.” Thranduil brought his hands up to his father’s face, placing them on each of his cheeks. “Breathe with me, Ada, just breath. You’ve done this before!” 

Oropher nodded again and leaned his head in towards Thranduil’s. They pressed their foreheads together, and Oropher closed his eyes. He listened to his son’s breathing, using it as a rock to stabilize himself upon. He was nervous as shit, and tried to go over every aspect of their plan in his head. After a few moments, he leaned back, taking Thranduil’s long hands in his own. He kissed his son’s knuckles chastely.

“Not like this.” Oropher said, breaking the stillness of the moment, making Thranduil smile. “I’m going to go change. Do you need anything?”

“I’m going to head downstairs.”

“Okay, you should probably lie down.” Oropher heard his son cackle as he walked slowly down the stairs, leaning heavily on the thick banister.

“I’m way too restless to sit still, Ada.”

Oropher dressed himself in the outfit he had picked out. Something comfortable, Galadriel had told him. Something that he can move in, something he wouldn’t mind getting dirty, something that would make him feel at home. He slid on a pair of insulated black track pants that rode low on his hips, and a tight black tanktop. He ran his hands over the ribbing of the fabric. It was definitely tighter, and more revealing than he would have worn outside of the house. But the last thing he wanted was shit getting in his way. He wanted to be able to move, to maneuver. He tied his long, pale hair back and pulled his socks off before making his way down the stairs.

He saw Thranduil walking in slow circles around the room. He was humming a happy tune, rubbing his stomach and his lower back. The light from the kitchen was the only beam shining through the room. Oropher walked into the kitchen and grabbed their long white butane lighter from the junk drawer. He walked throughout the downstairs living room, kitchen and dining room, lighting all of the candles in sight. 

They had filled the rooms with candles at Thranduil’s request. He had spent hours online ordering them in all shapes and sizes. Thranduil’s favourite had been a group of three large, golden candles, three feet tall. Each one had thick ribbons of metallic red wax swirling throughout. They smelled like licorice when burning, a smell that would probably have made Thranduil gag until the pregnancy. Now he loved the stuff, eating it every chance he got and adoring the idea of the aroma all around him. Oropher lit all of them, filling the room with a soft orange glow that allowed them to see but still kept Thranduil from feeling like he was in the spotlight. Even though he was. All eyes would be on Thranduil tonight. Oropher looked over at the clock on the television. One-fifteen. Looked like the baby was going to be an early riser already. 

A soft knocking on the door stole his attention. He walked over and opened it to find Galadriel’s sparking eyes smiling happily at him. She spoke in soft tones, walking into the gentle hug he offered.

“Hey there! How is Thranduil doing?” Oropher breathed a sigh of relief at her very presence. 

“He seems calm, but he doesn’t want to sit still. I told him to take a rest but he’s too excited.” She smiled and shook her head and leaned down to pick up her duffle bag, which Oropher easily intercepted.

“Yes, I’m not surprised.” 

Galadriel walked into the house, pushing her sandals off to the side of the couch and finding her way to Thranduil. Oropher shouldered her heavy duffle bag and walked after her, happy to feel her presence in the air. She was the one they trusted; it had only taken moments for Thranduil to suggest that Galadriel attend his birth, and her knowledge and experience was something Oropher needed to lean on right now. His son didn’t seem too phased or worried, but Oropher was working to hold back his fear and nervousness. He felt his muscles relax as Galadriel’s soft voice filled the air. She was speaking in slow whispers, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to be unobtrusive.

“Hey there, Thran. How are you feeling?”

“Good. There’s a lot of pressure. And my back is hurting, but nothing too bad.” Thranduil’s response was soft, as well, though excitement dotting his naked features. She nodded, her blue eyes glinted in the pale light and she got down on her knees in front of him. 

“Pressure is good. That’s a good sign. It means your baby is getting as restless as you are.” She smiled up at him. “I need to check if you’re dilated, okay?” Thranduil nodded.

Oropher decided to make himself scarce as Galadriel and his son worked with each other on the intimate details. He placed her duffle bag on the table in the kitchen, and walked himself outside onto the porch. He grabbed the pack of cigarettes he kept outside and lit up, for what he was sure wouldn’t be the last time that morning. He watched the smoke curl out into the darkness and he felt his nervousness returning.

Their entire lives were about to change. 

Thranduil had told Oropher first. Over frozen pizza and a bad horror movie, something about Hitler’s brain being hooked up to electrodes commanding an army of zombie Nazis. Thranduil had been overcome with excitement and happiness. He had run over every detail of his plans and his dreams for his upcoming family. His talking had gone on long into the night as Oropher sat silent, processing and trying to take on the enjoyment of his son. He'd had a hard time adjusting to the idea, not because of the idea of a baby being in the house, not that at all. He had taken to the idea instantly, happily putting his work on hiatus without a second thought. His reluctance came from an entirely different place, something he never thought he would have to face.

He felt alone. His son was experiencing something that, for the first time, Oropher couldn’t protect him from. His son would have to go through what Oropher’s own wife had gone through, the uncertainty of bringing a new life into the world...and coming through it safely. Not that Oropher really had any desire to go through something like that, nor did he want to go through what was necessary to actually _get_ pregnant. Still, it nagged at him that, for the first time in his life, he was going to be a full spectator in Thranduil’s life, he would be on the sidelines. It made him feel like an outsider. Powerless. Something Oropher always hated to feel.

He heard the sliding door open as he flicked his cigarette out into the yard. His son’s deep voice called out to him.

“Ada, are you there?”

Oropher nodded and turned back towards the house. He looked at his son, framed in the orange light from the kitchen. His hair was long, pulled back loosely in a thick ponytail at the base of his neck. He never thought that pregnancy would really affect them, and he would never have guessed that Thranduil would have embraced so fully the idea of being a parent. It made Oropher feel like it was right, watching his son fuss over his unborn child and the nesting he had done over the past month. Since Thranduil’s birth he had always been the reason for the most important decisions in Oropher’s life. His son had always come first; his safety, his happiness, his security. This time would be no different, Oropher had no fear of that. He would pull the moon down in chains if it helped his son tonight, and it was at Thranduil’s request that he would be here for the birth.

“Hey, are you okay?” Thranduil asked him, a worried expression crossing his face. He stepped out towards Oropher and placed a hand on his arm. Oropher smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. So, this is it, huh?” 

Thranduil flashed a glourious smile, both rows of teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He dropped his hand down his father’s arm, landing on his fingers and wrapping them in a tight grasp. They squeezed each others’ hands tightly, sharing a moment of peace before the big moment began. Holding on to each other, holding on to the last hours of their private lives together, where they were each others’ most important reason for living.

“Yeah, Ada, this is it.”


	3. A sacrifice, a test...

“Alright Thranduil, I’m just going to observe for now. Just go about on your own, you know? Do your own thing; this is your space and you just need to focus on being comfortable. Remember, the baby will come when he’s good and ready. I’m just going to be in the background, here if you need me, okay?”

Thranduil smiled and shook his head at Galadriel as she sat herself comfortably down in the living room. She pulled a book out of her pack and settled herself in, making sure she had a good overview of the house and Thranduil’s walkways. Oropher followed on his son’s heels as he walked unevenly into the kitchen. He watched as Thranduil shifted his weight from one foot to the other, pushing at his lower back and hips with his hands as he rolled his head on his neck. Oropher walked in front of him and leaned up against the counter. 

Thranduil was dressed in a tight, forest green tanktop, similar to his own. He watched the dark fabric stretch across his small breasts, which where held back tightly in a deep red sport bra. Oropher shook his head at the sight, still finding it strange and difficult to get used to. Since Oropher reached age ten, he had fallen into a comfort zone with his gender. It was customary for most children, and he was no different. He had never really been too adventurous, being born male and always feeling quite comfortable that way, he hadn’t switched more than a few times in his younger years. Feeling his body go through the change always made him dizzy, and more like he was borrowing someone else’s skin rather than just changing his own. Thranduil was always more comfortable, braver, stronger.

“Are you feeling alright?” Thranduil’s eyes opened at his father’s voice. He let out a small sigh.

“Yeah. The pressure is getting kinda insane. I can feel him squirming around in there. He...she wants out.”

“She’ll be out soon enough.” Oropher walked forwards and rubbed Thranduil’s stomach gently with his hands. He looked into his son’s eyes.

“Do you want something to drink maybe? Galadriel said I should make sure you’re hydrated.”

Thranduil shook his head and leaned his back against the counter, trying to relieve some of the discomfort he felt. Oropher reached into the fridge and took out a new jug of fresh orange juice that he had picked up that morning. Extra pulpy, just the way he and his son liked it. Chunky enough you almost needed a spoon to eat it. He opened up a cabinet and grabbed two glasses, and was pouring a large glass for Thranduil when he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. He turned and saw him slouching forwards against the counter, grabbing onto his stomach with one hand, the other gripping his now sopping wet crotch through the loose, grey skirt he had bought for this very moment. He lifted his hand up, staring at the slick wetness coating his fingers.

“Oh. Oh! Ada!”

Oropher dropped the jug of juice on the counter and took two long steps until he was standing at his son’s side. He lifted Thranduil into a standing position and called out into the living room.

“Galadriel! Help!”

Thranduil had started to shake a bit, his hands jittering nervously as he stared at the murky liquid running down his palm. 

“A-A-Ada....Ada...” Oropher gripped his son’s hand tightly with his own, feeling their skin squish together. He felt his stomach clench slightly as his brain tried to get him to think about what he was touching, but he pushed it away, knowing that there was definitely more to come. Thranduil’s fear flooded into his blue eyes, and Oropher started to fell his own courage faltering. Luckily for them, they weren’t alone.

“Okay Thran, calm down. I can see you shaking from here.” Galadriel’s voice filled their ears, calm and cool and collected. She walked towards Thranduil and turned him around to face her. He saw his brother breathing hard, his hand protectively wrapped around his stomach. She placed her hand on top of his and smiled calmly into his eyes.

“Tell me what happened Thranduil. What are you feeling?”

“I...I...I felt, felt warm. It’s...it..it’s like I pissed myself.” Galadriel let out a small laugh and put both of her hands up to his face.

“It’s okay, Thranduil, your water broke. That’s a good sign!” She stroked her fingers soothingly over his forehead and cheeks. His grip on Oropher’s hand was like a vice, but his shivering was beginning to clear up as he focused on his midwife. She continued to talk, coaching him through the lessons he had already prepared for.

“Remember, Thranduil, there is nothing to be afraid of. People have been giving birth for thousands of years, all over the world. Your body was built for this, it knows what to do. Trust in yourself, trust in your baby. The two of you can do this together.” She turned towards Oropher. “I’m going to go set up the pool in the living room. Stay with him. I’ll need your help in a few minutes to set up the water pump and the heater.”

Oropher nodded his head, turning Thranduil into the circle of his arms as she walked away. He felt Thranduil’s stomach press up against his own, and he held his upper arm with one hand and ran his other over the back of his child’s neck. It was coated in sweat, and he could feel Thranduil’s pulse dancing underneath his skin. 

“It’s okay, _ion nîn_. It’s okay.”

“I...I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Yes, you can!” Oropher lifted Thranduil’s face to his own, locking eyes with his son and seeing the almost identical greyish blue orbs looking back at him with nervousness. Oropher brushed his thumbs over Thranduil’s eyebrows, smoothing the dark hairs down and wiping the sweat beads off of his brow.

“Yes, Thran, you can. You’ve been preparing for this moment for months, you _know_ what to do. You’re the strongest person I know. You can do anything you want to, you always have. You’ve got balls, Thran.” Oropher stopped and thought for a moment. “Well, not right now, you don’t.”

Thranduil smiled at that and his body relaxed a bit as Oropher continued to pet his eyebrows while speaking softly.

“You can do this. You’re incredible, and you have Galadriel here, and you have me. You can lean on me, my son. I’ll do whatever I can.”

Thranduil nodded and leaned his face into the crook of Oropher’s neck, exhaling loudly. He put his hands on his hips and moved his body from side to side again. Oropher shivered from the heated blast of Thranduil’s breath, and he ran his hands up and down Thranduil’s arms, trying to rub the tension out of his muscles.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Oropher asked. 

“My hips are killing me, it feels good when I push on them. Makes the pressure...ahhh...” Thranduil gasped as a contraction hit him. He bit his lower lip and leaned heavily against Oropher until it passed.

“It makes the pressure ease up a bit.” Oropher nodded his head and turned Thranduil around by his upper arms. He leaned up against the fridge and pulled Thranduil up against his body. Thranduil’s back molded against his father’s lean stomach and chest, and Oropher put his hands on the outside of his son’s hips and pressed down strongly. He heard his son sigh with relief and felt his head lean back against his shoulder. Oropher was glad he was able to help, and he pressed down harder. 

Several minutes passed like this, the two of them standing up against one another; the son taking in what comfort his father could offer. Thranduil rocked from side to side, his breathing slow and even but hitching every so often as a contraction passed through him. Oropher followed the rhythm of his son’s breathing, and the memories of how he had helped his wife in the past came flooding back to him. The closeness and silence was comforting to both of them -- one man focusing on the life within him, and the other focusing on the one within his arms. The night seem like it was at a stand still. 

“Thranduil, try drinking something. You’re sweating a lot. I don’t want you to pass out.”

Thranduil nodded his head and went to sit down at the kitchen table. Oropher poured him a glass of water, choosing to ignore the puddle of orange juice dripping off of the counter onto the floor. He was completely focused on his son, and the new little family member whose grand entrance was coming closer every hour. He handed the glass to Thranduil, watching him drink every drop. He filled it up once more before he heard Galadriel’s voice from the living room.

“Oropher, I need your help please!”

He handed the glass to Thranduil, running his fingers affectionately over his long silvery hair.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t have the baby without me.”


	4. Why did I not know, that birth is the pinnacle...

“Oh wow, oh, ohhh.....” Thranduil tossed his head back against Oropher’s shoulder, the wet strands of his pale hair dripping off of the edge of the small, green delivery pool and hitting up against Oropher’s already soaked clothing. He was on his knees behind the pool, with his arms in the water, wrapped underneath Thranduil’s shoulders and holding onto his chest just underneath his breasts. Hi’s breathing had increased and, though he was calm and quiet, it was far deeper than normal.

The candles continued to burn, casting the room in their beautiful, orange glow and lending a warmth to the entire setting that made everyone feel at home. This was what Thranduil had been going for all along. As soon as his pregnancy was confirmed, he knew he had wanted a home birth. He hated the cold, sterile environment in the hospital. He hated the timeframes and the forced labor deadlines. He wanted his labor to be on his terms, with no intervention unless it was absolutely necessary. Oropher had been nervous as hell at the entire concept, but Thranduil told him to shut his mouth and he could feel free to go get himself pregnant and run on over to the hospital for his own damn baby. 

The water in the pool was warm, mixing with Thranduil’s sweat as he sang softly in between contractions. Songs he had written for the baby, for his baby. These where for his child, and Oropher was absolutely in love with them, vowing to write music for them and join him at nighttime for lullabyes. 

“Ohhhh fuck....” Thranduil pushed back against Oropher again, soft moans and sighs coming off of his lips as Oropher felt son’s body tense and his dark eyebrows knit together. He used his hands under the water to push down on Thranduil’s hips, helping him to rid his pelvis of the grinding he could feel when the baby pressed down. 

“Ada, oh hell....it hurts.” Galadriel smiled at him, her hands rubbing soft circles into the arches of his feet while he labored.

“Remember your prayers, Thranduil, remember your strength.” Oropher couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Luckily he was out of Thranduil’s line of sight. He was never one to pray, and he didn’t put a lot of faith in....well, faith. But Thranduil had changed since his pregnancy, and he nodded to Galadriel as he settled himself deeper back against his father. His contractions were coming closer and closer together now. Oropher felt Thranduil’s hands lift up around his head and grasp Oropher tightly at the back of his neck, his fingers kneading at his muscles.

“Hold me close, Ada.” Thranduil said, his voice heavy with breath and anticipation. Oropher pulled his hands from Thranduil’s hips and wrapped his arms around his son’s body, pulling him close up against the wall of the pool as he spoke, pausing long and hard as the baby moved closer and closer to the world.

 

“Eru, give me strength.... guide my body as it gives..... as it gives life.” Oropher felt Thranduil’s fingers dancing over the skin on his neck as his grip tightened. 

“Blessed father of us all, please.... please.... ugh...”

Oropher felt his heart drop as Thranduil prayed, and he gripped his son tighter than he ever could have imagined, burying his face into Thranduil’s neck as he tried with all his soul to give his energy and his strength to his son. 

“You can do this.” He whispered directly into Thranduil’s ear. His son smiled and gritted his teeth.

“I can do this,” He responded, and a loud moan flowed from his mouth as he felt his baby begin to move down and out of his body. 

“You’re doing well, Thranduil, push when you feel you need to, and rest when you can. You’re doing great!” Galadriel’s hands had moved from Thranduil’s feet to his knees, rubbing the flesh there and keeping her eyes on the progress of the baby, whose head was crowning beneath the warmth of the water. Thranduil reached a hand down between his legs and felt the top of his baby’s head.

“Oh my god! Oh, my gods, I can....he’s here! He’s almost here!” Oropher gripped him close and pulled a hand up out of the water to smooth Thranduil’s hair back out of his face, watching the water droplets drip off the tip of his nose as he jumped between smiling and gritting his teeth in pain. He reached his arms up around his father’s neck again, arching his back as another contraction hit his body.

“OH! Oh shit, come on, baby....come on, baby we want you here.... Ada, help me, help me...” 

Oropher did the only thing he knew how to do -- he ran his hand up Thranduil’s body and held his jaw while he placed a kiss on the outside of his son’s mouth. The kiss looked chaste enough, but was filled with an emotion that Oropher knew he would never feel again. He had always felt love for his son, had always felt a connection with him, but now was something even more. He felt his child’s strength and was floored by it. He was in awe of how Thranduil was about to bring a new life into this world. Everything that he was doing and experiencing for months was culminating in this heavily physical and spiritual moment. 

He wanted to give his son everything. He wanted to be able to take the shared half of their soul that he housed and pour it back into the life he himself had helped create. He wanted Thranduil to have everything back, to be able to actually use Oropher’s strength to bring the baby out into the darkness of this night. He had never before wanted to crawl back into a time where they shared the same skin as much as he did in these moments.

“I’m here, _ion nîn_ , I’m here. Just hold onto me, you’re almost there. Your baby is almost here.”

“Oh Eru...oh... he’s coming.” 

At that, Thranduil let out a groan that shook the sides of the pool and made Oropher hold on tightly as he saw Galadriel lean forwards into the pool. Oropher felt Thranduil’s lips touch the side of his face as he spoke, choking back on tears as his body clenched and pushed with everything that he had. So much strength, like a King among men. Thranduil spoke softly, his voice dropping to a deep octave within in chest as he recited clearly between heavy, breathy moans.

“Why had no one told me.....that my body would become a battlefield.....a sacrifice, a test...... Why did I not know.....that birth is the pinnacle......where we discover the courage......to become mothers.”

Oropher heard Thranduil’s words pass his lips as he saw Galadriel lift a tiny, tiny baby out of the water between Thrandui’s legs. 

It felt like time stood still.   
The Earth itself had stopped moving. 

Oropher remembered no sound in those few seconds, as they felt like they continued on for hours. He saw in the silence, the tiny life being lifted up out of the murky water. Stark white hair, he noticed, and tiny little hands grasping at the air. 

He remembered feeling Thranduil’s face slip away from his cheek, turning towards the baby. He could feel Thranduil’s arms fall away from around his neck, dropping slowly into the water as the two of them stared. Oropher could hear nothing but his own breathing echoing throughout his ears.

He wanted to turn and look at Thranduil, he wanted to see the look on his face when he first turned towards his newborn child. But he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The moment came to life as a small but shrill cry broke the silence. The baby wailed, tossing its arms out into the air and screaming. Galadriel checked the baby’s nose and mouth and immediately handed it across the pool.

“Congratulations, Thranduil. You have a son.”

Thranduil smiled and took his baby in his arms, pulling him close to his chest. Oropher felt his heart break; he had never seen anything so damn beautiful in his entire life. He remembered the first moment when his own son had been handed to him, but nothing compared to the beauty of reliving that intimate, beautiful moment.... seeing that same wonder and love cross his son’s own face. Thranduil leaning back against the side of the pool. His silvery hair in tangles, wet from the water and sweat that was dripping down his face. The wet green of his tanktop made the baby’s skin look so pale, as pale as Thranduil’s own. Oropher watched his son run his short nails down the side of the tiny baby’s face, brushing his hair back along his brow.

“He has so much hair,” Galadriel said, as she leaned back on her heels and patted Oropher on the hand. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Thranduil, or from the baby.

From his family.

Thranduil’s smile was fading as exhaustion swept in. He leaned heavily on the pool as he looked at his child. Oropher swallowed and was the first to speak. In this moment, he felt the words come to him from something he had read long, long ago. 

“... and I could not get my fill of looking.” Thranduil looked up at his father’s words as he continued, “There should be a song for men and women to sing at this moment, or a prayer to recite. But perhaps there is none, because there are no words strong enough to name that moment.”

Thranduil smiled at him.

“Come closer, Ada. Come see him.”

Oropher could hear how tired his son was underneath his words. He scooted around the pool and leaned over Thranduil’s shoulder, staring down into the tiny, wrinkled face of his grandchild. 

“Oh, Thranduil, he’s perfect. He’s beautiful.” Oropher lifted a hand to his face and touched him. “Look what you’ve made.”

“He’s....awesome.” Thranduil smiled and sighed.

“May I hold her?” Oropher asked. Thranduil nodded and handed the tiny life to his father. Oropher was spellbound by his size, the blueness of his eyes as they tried to focus in the dim light. He stood and held him close to his chest, running his hand over soft baby skin, amazed by how soft he was.

“Name him, Ada.” He heard Thranduil say as Galadriel helped him to stand up in the pool.

“No! No, Thran, I can’t! He’s your baby!”

“He’s our baby, Ada. My son, your grandson. What’s mine is yours, blood of my blood. Name him.” Oropher looked away from Thranduil with even more shock as he concentrated on the child in his arms.

“My grandson.” Oropher spoke softly enough that only the two of them could hear. The baby’s small hand wrapped around the tip of his finger and squeezed tightly. He could hear Thranduil behind him speaking with Galadriel. He was exhausted, completely drained from the entire evening. She was helping him upstairs and into the bedroom. Leaving Oropher alone with the child.

He looked up and around the room as he held the baby close. He couldn’t believe how much it felt as if the world around them had shifted into another zone. It was as if the sun would never rise again, the rain would never fall. There was nothing outside of the walls of his home, there was no one else in the world who mattered. Suddenly, all of the stress of his life was gone -- his job didn’t matter, the politics didn’t matter, nothing mattered. The only things he cared about were in this home. Thranduil, and the child.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to that tiny forehead, and suddenly felt stifled in the dark humidity of the living room. He reached out for the small white blanket that rested next to the pool and wrapped his grandson poorly, and he cursed himself for not having paid more attention to these details when his own son had been small. It was something he would have to remedy this time around. He walked over to the porch and slid open the door until he felt the cool air hit his skin. He held the baby close and watched him in the moonlight as he walked out into the yard. 

“I always love coming out here at night, baby. It’s peaceful out here, I think you’ll like it.” Oropher turned up towards the house as the light from Thranduil’s bedroom came on and shone out into the yard. He saw his son smile at him out the window and wave. Oropher knew Thranduil ached to hold his son again, but he also knew Thranduil would appreciate a moment to shower before that. Oropher had a few moments before he would have to head back in. He focused his attention on the squeals and movements of the little boy.

His grandson. 

He was having a hard time focusing on that concept. It’s true what Thranduil said, that everything that they had belonged to the both of them. They shared the same calling of spirit, the same soul. Thranduil’s child was a member of his family line, an extension of himself. But Oropher hadn’t had any time to consider that concept until now. He watched the baby move, and felt his heart covering his body to keep him safe.

Off in the distance, Oropher heard what sounded like a loud thunder clap.

_Odd time of year for a static storm?_

Oropher turned to walk back into the safety of the house, not wanting to have the new baby out if there was any lightening about, or even cold rain, for that matter. He kissed his head softly, the ground shook with a heavy vibration and the entire world around him turned a blinding white.


	5. ...where we discover the courage to become mothers.

Oropher woke from his reverie as the baby squalled loudly in the quiet room. His voice pierced his ears and he winced as he stood, pulling him close to his body. 

“Hey, hey now, don’t cry, baby. Are you hungry?”

Oropher made his way down the stairs of the nursery towards the kitchen. The living room was still set up from the night of the birth. The green pool sat in the middle of the carpeting opposite the fireplace. Galadriel’s bag still sat open on the floor, the candles were still lit and would never burn low. Oropher had learned early on that nothing would change. If he blew the candles out, they would be lit as soon as he exited the room. Or maybe it happened just before he returned?

He reached the kitchen and stepped over the spilled orange juice that dripped off of the counter and onto the floor. The dripping should have ceased long ago, but there was a constant slow stream out of the perpetually half full juice bottle that lay abandoned on its side. He used his right hand to mix a bottle of formula, pouring the powder and the jug of nursery water together before mixing it. He was lucky that Galadriel had suggested they stock up on different kinds of formula. Thranduil had been determined to breast feed, but Galadriel warned him to be prepared for anything, as many new mothers found it difficult and gave up early.

Oropher had laughed outright at that. Thranduil would never give up on something like that. He was stubborn as hell, and he had decided that his pregnancy and everything after it would be natural, and if Thranduil made a decision then the universe would move to see it happen. At the very least, Oropher would move to make it happen. 

He mixed the bottle gently with a fork and screwed the cap back on top. If Thranduil hadn’t bought these things, how would he have fed the baby? He shuddered at the thought as he made his way back upstairs to his bedroom, lying down and wrapping him and his grandson up in the many fluffy comforters that he also had to thank Thranduil for. The tiny boy nursed happily as Oropher looked to the clock on the wall beside his dresser. Four fifty-nine. Unlike the candles or the orange juice, the clocks seemed to always be moving around him, albeit very slowly. Thranduil had given birth to his son at three forty-seven in the morning. 

Oropher remembered the flash of light filling the world, and he remembered waking up to his grandson crying in the next room some time later. The clock had read three fifty-six. That had been four weeks ago. The clocks seemed to be tied to a different world, though which one he was in right now, Oropher was unsure of. Nothing changed, nothing moved. He couldn’t leave the house, all doors and windows were closed to him. Not that he really felt any desire to leave. He had his grandson with him, and he was surrounded in peace and comfort in a world of Thranduil's creation. Why would he ever want to leave this place?

The only thing that he missed terribly was his sonn. He had given very little thought to why he was here, and to where ‘here’ really was. It had only taken him a few hours to believe in the idea of his own death, but if that were true, why was he there and Thranduil was not? What could have thrown him and the baby into their strange limbo? He had never believed in an afterlife, and the few times he had thought about it, he had never imagined it as eternal waiting with no one to speak to. He had cried miserably when he could not contact his son. When he realized that the phones were nothing more than props, that the television and the computer where useless and the doors wouldn’t open. When it dawned on him that he could not reach nor feel the presence of his son, he had broken down and wept. He had toyed with the idea of killing himself to test his theory. 

If he were dead, then he couldn’t die. Could he?

He had pushed the idea away as soon as his grandson cried out for him. If he was to wait in this so-called ‘afterlife’ forever, then so would his grandfather. He would never leave him alone, Thranduil would never forgive him if he did. 

And so Oropher found himself again laying curled protectively around him, pressing his lips into his soft, buttery hair. He hummed the tunes of Thranduil’s lullabies gently, at least the parts that he could remember. The night was still dark, and he refrained from ever turning the lights on in this room. The baby finished his bottle and dozed up against him. Oropher lifted the bottle and placed it on the nightstand as he nestled his grandson closely against his chest. He felt sleep overtaking him, as his mind wandered to its usual niches. 

_Where is my son?_

 

 

When Thranduil awoke, his body was wracked with pain. He opened his eyes and saw that he lay face down on the carpeting next to his bed. He tried to push his upper body off of the floor, but his breath left him as he felt stabbing pains deep within his chest and felt a snap inside one of his arms. He hit the floor again, feeling pain radiate up and down his body. He rolled over and tried to see in the darkness of the room. A white film lay over everything, like a thick coating of baby powder. The floor was littered with pieces of wood and shingles, drywall and chunks of brick lay across the floor and the furniture that was left standing. Most of the pieces were shattered, sending clothing and accessories of all kinds throughout the white mess.

His eyes traveled upwards over his white walls, gaping when he saw the entire far side of his bedroom was completely gone. The wall had fallen, and it looked as if the roof had fallen into his bedroom. He saw the sky above him, and a strange mass of dark orange clouds obscured anything else from his view. Bill tried to move his arm and felt the pain again. He looked down at his body, seeing his arm bent at an unnatural angle, and blood pouring steadily from a deep laceration across the inside of his elbow. He tried to breathe, finding it difficult with the heavy layer of soot that covered his face and floated freely through the air with every movement he made. 

“A.....Ada?” His voice was shaky, and he tried to piece together where his father would be.

Within an instant, his mind switched back on faster than it ever had before. His breasts ached and he remembered his son’s face and the sound of his cry. He had been in Oropher’s arms! Thranduil rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto his knees. He cried out from the weight he had put on his wounded arm, and a newly discovered torture within his lower leg. But none of these things mattered now, he was running on an alien autopilot that he couldn’t even fully comprehend. His only thoughts were the images of his son’s body held in his father’s arms, and the memory of them standing outside in the yard before the flash. 

Thranduil used the edge of his bed to pull himself up into a standing position. He caught of glimpse of Galadriel’s body, tossed carelessly into a pile in the corner of the dark room, her head fallen forwards at an unnatural angle against her chest. His body swayed heavily and as he took a single step forwards, he felt a heavy weight drop low into his stomach. Heat flooded his thighs, and he looked down to see a river of blood flowing from between his legs. His womb was hemorrhaging, he knew it was. Whatever had happened had thrown him to the ground as his body was still trying to recover from the birth. Who knew how long he had been unconscious and bleeding this heavily. He used his poor hand and slid it between his legs, uselessly cupping the entrance of his body with his palm, hoping to stop himself from bleeding out. He knew it was useless as he slid along the walls of the hallway, leaving a garish, bright red streak of blood in his wake, taking slow and short steps around chunks of his home that had fallen down around itself. 

He made it down three steps before tumbling heavily to the floor. His painful leg protested his final attempt to catch himself and snapped under the pressure. He felt his femur crack in half and he screamed. His lungs burned with the effort, and he felt his ability to breathe lessen as the stabbing in between his ribs began to grow stronger. He rolled onto his back again and pressed both of his hands between his legs. The bleeding had increased. He pulled his good leg up over his pelvis, trying his best to apply pressure and seal himself off. The muscles protested, the birth having wrung him dry of his energy long ago and left him empty, open and damaged. He felt tears fall down his cheeks as he craned his neck towards the entrance to the back yard.

 

My baby.

 

“Baby.” 

He turned onto his stomach and pushed himself up again, feeling his womb clench and prolapse downwards. He felt excruciating pain that forced black holes up into his vision. He felt something heavy and wet hit the palm of his hand. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he pressed his hand between his legs harder and scooted forwards one slow step at a time. 

He had to get to his family.  
He had to get to his son.

His breath was hitching in his chest and he found himself hyperventilating as he reached the hole where the sliding doors had once stood. His feet scraped over the broken glass but he paid it no mind. He knew that whatever was causing him to hemorrhage would claim his life, making the bottoms of his feet nothing more than dust already, as far as he was concerned.

He stepped out over the threshold of the house and fell to the ground as he tried, foolishly, to put weight on his broken leg. He felt as if a balloon had popped within his gut, he felt as if he were emptying himself. The heat ran over his body and pooled out onto the powder covered grass. He gasped deeply and tried to look out over the yard for his family. His heart stopped as he found them.

What once was green grass was now nothing but a sea of grey ashes, appearing golden by the thick orange clouds that hung overhead. Laying face down was a figure, long enough to be a man, covered in the thick, ashey substance. Thranduil pulled himself forwards, his eyes clinging to his hopes as he tried to fight away the inevitability that his mind would never accept. His ears heard a sound reminiscent of helicopters, and felt heavy vibrations running through the ground beneath him. His one good arm and leg pulled him forwards slowly. His fingers had little to hold onto, as no grass remained beneath the ashes. 

When his fingers reached the body in front of him, he began to cry. The clothing that his father had been wearing no longer existed, it had been scorched off, along with his hair. His body felt dry and scale-like to the touch. He lay face down, and Thranduil crawled up next to him. 

“Ada! Ada, A-dada, please, Ada!” He pleaded softly as tears ran down his cheeks. He reached out and grabbed Oropher's shoulder with his hand, pushing as hard as he could, rolling the corpse over onto its side. He gagged as he looked across the ravaged face of what had once been his father, alike enough in form and manner to be his twin. Twisted in death, his features were contorted and unfamiliar, his skin a dark colour that no longer resembled his skin. He looked more like a skeleton than the strong man he had been what seemed like only moments ago. And held softly in the remains of his arms was the small body of a dead child. 

“Oh no! NO! No, no, please no! NO!!” Thranduil screamed as he bent his face down to that of his baby. He gripped the brittle remains of his skull in his hand and held onto it for dear life, crushing it swiftly to ashes between his fingers. He felt his head swim and he cursed the gods for what they had done. He felt his bleeding continue, and he used what strength he had left to push as he had been when giving birth to his beautiful, beautiful son. He felt his insides shifting and he lost his ability to hear as the world began to fade around him. He kissed what was left of his son's body, and he wrapped his arms around the remains of his father, his protector, his guiding champion. 

He looked out into the distance and saw the world he had known in shambles. The houses were barely standing, all of the trees and grasses were gone. Bodies lay strewn about in the same state as Oropher's, burned to a blackened crisp in whatever state they had been thrown from their cars or homes. Out upon the horizon, many miles away, the tall stem of the orange mushroom cloud billowed upwards still. It sent a final chill through Thranduil as he watched. The countless documentaries and black and white pictures would never have been able to explain the terror he felt as he beheld the destroyer of his family, of his life, of his whole world. 

He turned his face back to his family, running his numb fingers over his father’s face and using his last breaths to sing the songs he had written for his son. 

The pain increased, and then it disappeared. He exhaled one last time as he dipped his head into the crook of his father’s neck, his lips touching the body of his baby as he closed his eyes. 

 

 

Oropher shifted as he felt the bed dipping downwards. He blinked his eyes in the darkness as he looked first towards his grandson. He felt his tiny breath against his cheek before looking up and seeing the most welcome sight he could ever imagine.

“Thranduil.” 

His son looked tired, worn and drained as he dropped himself down onto the bed. Tears ran down from his heavy lidded eyes as he wrapped his thin arms around the warm, breathing body of his son. Oropher was quick to push him into Thranduil's arms, and use his own to pull blankets around his son and hold him close. He heard Thranduil speaking softly against the baby’s skin.

“My baby. My baby. My baby...” His words were broken. Full of relief and sadness. Oropher cradled his son in his arms, holding him tight and keeping both of them safe from whatever emptiness was plaguing his son. He kissed Thranduil’s forehead and ran a hand along the side of his face, the other rubbing his back up and down. 

“You’re here. I thought I would never see you again. I though you would never see _him_ again.” He spoke.

“I’m here, Ada, I’m here. I’m here and I’m never leaving. Never leaving you, or my baby.” Thranduil’s words were so rattled and haunted, filled with exhaustion and a terror that brought tears to Oropher's eyes. He held his family close and thanked all of the gods in unison for bringing Thranduil to him. He heard his son’s voice as his head tipped upwards.

“What’s his name, Ada? What did you name him?” 

“Legolas. His name is Legolas.”

Thranduil smiled at his father and leaned forwards until their faces met in the darkness. Their foreheads touched, and Oropher put several small kisses to his son’s cheekbones as he wrapped his legs around Thranduil’s thin thighs. He wanted to build a cocoon of warmth and safety and never allow Thranduil or his child to leave his arms or his sight again. He felt Thranduil’s breathing deepen and his muscles begin to loosen beneath Oropher’s arms. He kissed his son chastely on the mouth, and kissed his grandson, as well. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be overcome with the comfort that now radiated off of his family, and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Down below the bedroom where mother, child and grandfather slept, the room began to change for the first time. The orange juice ebbed its flow, the candles burnt out in a warm wash of air, and the doors ever so slowly, and ever so quietly unlocked.


End file.
